


Together

by aneedleofmyown



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Future Fic, Mild Sexual Content, Prompt Fic, Reunions, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneedleofmyown/pseuds/aneedleofmyown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the briefest moment, Gendry’s gaze flickered down to her mouth, and suddenly she knew what she had to do- what she needed to do… what she wanted to do. It didn’t take much; just the slightest forward nudge of her head, and then she was kissing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

_She had found him._

Arya stood frozen in the entrance to the small forge, arrested by the sight of a fully-matured Gendry. It had been five years since she’d crossed the Narrow Sea, leaving him behind, and now here he was in front of her all over again. Her breath caught in her throat as she observed the play of muscles beneath his sweat-slicked skin as he brought his hammer down on a red-hot sheet of metal. The sound rang in her ears.

_He looks different_ , she thought. Different, and yet somehow just the same. Gendry was no doubt larger than the last time she’d seen him; taller and broader in stature. But his thick black hair still fell in front of his blue eyes the way it had always done, and his face retained the same stubborn expression as she remembered.

“Gendry,” she breathed, her voice hardly a whisper. She’d barely made a sound, and yet he somehow still managed to hear her over the clang of his hammer. His blue eyes darted up to meet hers, and her heart gave a thud at the sight of them; his eyes were as deep and gentle as she had ever seen them, and she silently thanked the gods that the years had not changed him in the ways they’d changed her.

For a moment, Gendry’s expression remained blank, and she worried that he didn’t recognize her. Arya wondered how she must look to him. No doubt, time had transformed her outside as well as inside, and for a small moment she was afraid that she had nothing left of her old self within her.

But then Gendry smiled, and suddenly it was as if she were eleven years old all over again, running across the country with her bull-headed friend.

“Arya?” he asked, astonishment clear in his voice as he set his hammer down with a heavy thud. He didn’t make any move toward her, simply staring at her face instead, and she found herself yearning to be close to him in a way different than she’d ever done before. She’d missed him more than she’d been able to understand over the past five years, and had longed to see his face again. But now that he was here in front of her, something about that longing… changed. It confused and excited her all at once.

Finding herself curiously unable to speak, Arya merely nodded her head in response, and she and Gendry simply stood staring at each other from opposite ends of the forge. Unaccustomed and annoyed by the sudden feelings of shyness and uncertainty overtaking her, Arya cleared her throat and said brusquely, “Well, are you going to stand there staring at me like an idiot all day, or are you going to come over here and greet me properly?”

Gendry’s smile widened across his face until she was practically dazzled before taking four long, sure strides toward her and taking her in his arms. “Oh,” she sighed in surprise, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of sensations coursing through her as she slid her hands across his taut, muscular shoulders in an embrace.

Gendry had played a big role in her decision to finally make her way back across the Narrow Sea- a bigger role than she’d ever wanted to admit, to be honest. But it wasn’t until this moment that she realized the full extent of things.

“Arya,” he murmured over and over again into her neck, clutching her so tightly around the waist that her feet left the floor. “Where have you been all this time, you little beast?”

Arya’s heart thudded painfully in her chest at the hurt and longing in his voice. She’d never considered that her absence would have any effect whatsoever on Gendry, but the sound of his voice and the way he clutched at her now told her that perhaps she’d been wrong in that assumption. Still, she wasn’t quite ready yet to tell him everything she’d been up to in her absence, so she simply replied, “I’ve missed you, stupid.”

Gendry sat her feet back on the ground and pulled away from her. “I’ve missed you, too,” he told her with a smile. “More than you know, I’ll bet. But that doesn’t answer my question.” He looked at her intently, clearly waiting for a proper response.

Arya hesitated, trying to decide where to begin. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized there was to tell- and even more that she knew she  _couldn’t_  tell him. She shook her head instead and said to him, “Later.”

Gendry got that slightly pained expression on his face that she knew meant he was thinking hard about something. She had the sudden urge to laugh at him, and reached a hand out and placed it against his rough, stubbled cheek. She felt him stiffen under her fingers and his eyes flitted to hers in surprise. And no wonder; she was surprised, as well. He was bringing out a side of her that Arya didn’t know existed, or perhaps she’d just forgotten about it long ago; a gentler side of herself, one that laughed and caressed and smiled. Taking her hand away quickly, she pressed on. “I  _will_  tell you what I’ve been doing for the past five years. I promise. Just…” She paused, searching for the right words. “Let’s just not think about that for a bit, alright?”

Gendry stared at her with those wide, blue eyes of his for a long moment before nodding. It wasn’t long before the smile returned to his face. “You look different,” he told her.

Arya raised her eyebrows at him, curious. “How so?”

She watched intently as he swept his gaze over her body, his eyes lingering suspiciously in certain areas before they made their way back up to her face. She saw his cheeks flush slightly as he shrugged his bare shoulders. “You look like a lady.”

Arya scoffed at that and looked down at herself. “Hardly that,” she told him. She was wearing a rugged, torn pair of boy’s trousers and a worn, ill-fitting tunic- and yet he still called her a lady.

“You do, though,” he insisted, reaching out and lightly fingering a lock of her dark, tangled hair. It had grown well past her shoulders now, and it still annoyed her to no end.

“Well, you look like the same old Bull I remember,” she teased. Though, as she looked at him again, she was reminded that that wasn’t entirely true. Gendry was the same in all the ways that mattered. But the boy she had left so many years ago was now a man, the edges of his face hardened and the planes of his chest and torso more defined.

Arya realized that she was staring and quickly pulled her gaze away, though not before she saw the smug smirk on Gendry’s face. She rolled her eyes up at the ceiling, and he laughed out loud. She shot him a look, and he only grinned even wider at her. “What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. She hated how she noticed the way his muscles twisted beneath his skin at the movement. “You’re funny, is all.”

“ _Funny_?” Arya asked in irritated astonishment. She’d been called many things in her lifetime, but funny was seldom one of them. “And what about me do you find so amusing, _Ser_  Gendry?”

His expression sobered slightly, and he gazed at her for a long moment. She was beginning to squirm when he finally said, “Why are you here, Arya?”

She blinked at him in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting that; at least, not yet. “Well, I…” She suddenly realized that she didn’t have a good reason as to why she’d come. Not one that she could easily explain, anyway. “I came to find you.” Arya felt her face grow warm under his gaze.

Gendry took a step closer toward her. “And why did you do that?”

“I….” She didn’t know what to tell him. And even if she did, she doubted she’d be able to say it anyway. Suddenly feeling as though this entire venture were an incredibly stupid idea, she took a step away from him, saying, “I should go.”

Gendry caught hold of her wrist, however, and pulled her back sharply against him. “No,” he told her, his voice rougher than it had been moments before, and his eyes burned with a strange heat. “Why did you come looking for me?”

“Let go of me,” she hissed, struggling against him, using her anger and fear to her advantage. She tried hitting at him with her free hand, but Gendry merely caught both of her wrists in his fingers and held them behind her back, bringing their bodies even closer together. Her chest was pressed hard against his, and she thought she could actually feel his heart pounding against her. She hoped he couldn’t feel hers, for it was beating a rapid and erratic tattoo against her ribcage. She’d never been this close to him before.

“ _Why_?” he repeated stubbornly.

Arya tried kicking at him and wriggling out of his grasp, but it was no use; she didn’t really want to get away from him anyway. Besides, her struggling only served to create an intriguing friction between their bodies, and it was driving her to distraction. Looking directly at him, she saw that he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon. But she couldn’t say the words out loud, she simply couldn’t.

For the briefest moment, Gendry’s gaze flickered down to her mouth, and suddenly she knew what she had to do- what she needed to do… what she  _wanted_  to do. It didn’t take much; just the slightest forward nudge of her head, and then she was kissing him.

It only took a second for Gendry to move from surprise to reciprocation. She heard a low groan escape his throat, and he pulled her even closer to him. The kiss was full of longing and spite and hunger, and it was so much more than she could have ever imagined. Her breath left her in a great rush, and she was left feeling the oddest sense of both strength and vulnerability. It scared her, but she somehow found herself wanting even more.

Arya opened her mouth to him, and Gendry slipped his tongue inside, making her whimper and struggle against the hand still clasped around her wrists. He freed her from his grip, moving his hands to clutch at her waist instead, and she ran shaking fingers through his thick hair.

His skin and smell and taste were all around her, and it awoke something deep inside of Arya that she hadn’t known existed. A primal, hungry part of her that begged roughly: _more, more, more_.

Suddenly, Gendry tore his mouth away, breathing raggedly and setting his forehead against hers. Feeling dazed and lustful, she leaned forward to kiss him again, but he pulled just out of reach.

“What is it?” she asked irritably. She didn’t want him to stop.

“So, is this why you came to find me?” he said, his voice deeper and more husky than normal. “To kiss me, only to leave again?”

Arya sensed what he was really asking, and she moved her hand tentatively over his. “Come with me.”

“Is that an order from m’lady?”

Anger flashed suddenly in Arya at the use of the old term, and she told him spitefully, “Yes, it bloody well is an order, you  _stupid_. Are you going to obey or not?”

For a long moment, she thought perhaps she’d gone too far. Her high birth had always been a touchy subject with Gendry for whatever reason, and she thought he might yell at her now. Instead, she was surprised to see a small, secret smile spread slowly across his face.

She gave him a quizzical look before he replied in that  _infuriating_  way of his, “As m’lady commands.”


End file.
